Don't Waste Your Breath
by Malikah
Summary: "If you don't have any ideas, I am sure we will find some way to occupy our breaths, won't we?" he asked, mischief shining in his eyes as his lips turned into a confident smirk. / Loki/Darcy Lewis(Thor) OneShot


_Here's a little New Years holiday One-shot, a bit ahead of time, I admit, but I hope you don't mind! :)_

_That's my first Darcy/Loki One-shot, so any kind of improvement suggestions, comments or corrections - English is not my native language - are welcome._

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to _Marvel. _

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**Don't Waste Your Breath**

_Words: 3000 _

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Thor's laugh thundered throughout the room and Darcy had to squirm, holding her hands against her ears and squinting her eyes shut, as she was not prepared for the loud volume of the god's laughter. Nevertheless, she joined in on it, similar to the rest of the Avengers, after a joke that one of them has shared. Somehow, they've become the family Darcy has never had before and although she was nowhere near as deadly as the Black Widow, as unerring as Hawkeye or as intelligent as Iron Man – though she seemed to share the same sense of humor as he did – she still felt incredibly comfortable around them. Today, they were celebrating New Years Eve together, everybody was gathered in the Stark Tower from where you could overlook the whole city and Darcy could only assume how breathtaking the spectacle of fireworks would look like from this high up in the sky. It was nearing on eleven o'clock and she was giddy and excited, sitting at the table and indulging in all kinds of expensive liquor that Stark had invested in. She already felt a bit light-headed, but it wasn't her fault that she was so bad at drinking games! And frankly, Captain America wasn't a fiend at it either, she even had the impression that she was far better able to hold her liquor than he was, and that made a wide grin spread on her face as she watched the pale Captain with dilated pupils and alcohol-induced redness on his cheeks. He was handsome, she had to admit. His blue eyes sparkled like the sea, his body was lithe and muscular, yet not overly so, and his hair was a mass of gold. Darcy propped her elbow onto the table and put her chin into her open palm, her finger brushing over her full lower lip while her eyes were fixated on the Captain sitting across from her. The Captain wasn't her type – he was a bit too perfect for her and except for the lack of the booming voice which was replaced by a bit more sense of tact, he reminded her too much of Thor and frankly, Thor was nobody whom she would consider as a partner in any kind of relationship – except of a strictly platonic friendship. But Darcy was bored, and since everybody was busy, there was only one thing she could do. Stark was busy drowning his brain cells in expensive liquor, Jane was busy drowning herself in Thor's persona and her favorite block of ice was probably busy drowning in self pity, so she had nothing else to do but make the Captain her target. So once he finally looked her way, she let her tongue run over her lower lip and beckoned him over with a wave of her fingers. She saw him gulp and her grin widened, before she stood up and, announcing that she needed fresh air – though she noticed that no one except for the Captain paid any attention to her words – went to the elevator, which would bring her to the very top of Stark Tower. She gave Captain a last glance and a wink before she turned around and stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and Darcy rode up, missing the sight of a pale hand, attached to a green-clad arm, which was pushing the Captain back into his seat, while thin, pale lips spoke in a foreign language, silent words that lured the Captain to remain in his seat.

Darcy stepped outside and crossed the roof of the sky scraper, halting at the edge, where she slowly leant over the railing, while the cold December wind blew around her body, making her shiver despite the warmth from the alcohol, which heated her from the inside. She was dressed in a sparkly dress, which left her arms bare and she cursed herself for the stupidity of going outside in nothing more but this sorry excuse for clothing. She was about to turn around and return to the warmth of the building, having decided that being warm was more important than playing with the Captain, as icy fingers wandered over the still warm skin of her arm, warm breath rushing through the hairs on the nape of her neck and she froze in the movement. Eyes opened wide, she twitched under the foreign touch, her lips parted in a surprised gasp and she shivered as she felt a body being pressed against her back, albeit the comforting warmth of another body remained absent. Despite being somewhat intoxicated and thanks to her overheated skin, she realized that it was not the Captain holding her captivated by his chilly grip, as shiver after shiver ran down her spine and goose bumps covered her fair skin wherever he touched her. She shuddered and closed her eyes at the feeling of long, lean fingers roaming down the length of her arms, coming to an end at her wrists, which he grasped in his big yet delicate hands. He raised her hands and she grasped the railing, desperate to have something to hold on to while her legs grew weak and her knees threatened to give out under her.

"Hello, Darcy." His smooth, snug voice caressed the syllables of her name like he caressed the side of her neck with his lips, in a manner that sent shivers down her spine and elicited a soundless moan from her full, steadily bluing lips. His equally cold ones grazed the side of her neck slowly, warily, agonizingly slow, whereat she tilted her head to the side, giving him more room to roam. She felt the snug smile that stretched his lips against her skin and involuntarily, she had to smile, too. She knew the man behind her rather well, and although she would never have considered letting him touch her this way some months ago, she was pleasurably surprised to feel his frosty touch now.

"Silver tongue." She murmured mockingly as a response and he merely chuckled, his warm breath on her sensitive skin felt incredibly thrilling, while the vibration of his chest against her back made her shiver in response. "Where've you been all evening?" she asked accusingly. "I was bored. Almost considered throwing myself on Captain, just to see if he could handle the Lewis-load of awesomeness, you know?" she told him, her voice slurred due to the alcohol she had indulged in. Another chuckle escaped his throat as his lips wandered up to rest against her ear, his hands slipping from her wrists and falling to her hips instead.

"I had important obligations to attend to." Was his mere answer and Darcy wanted to protest the lack of insight he granted her, but as soon as she opened her lips, he dragged his teeth sharply over the skin covering her rapidly pounding pulse, eliciting a soft moan from her. "And you know very well that he couldn't." he added throatily, but Darcy had already dismissed any pointless thoughts of Captain America, concentrating all of her senses on the God of Mischief instead.

"How kind of you to grant me some of your precious time, then." She murmured a bit defiantly and sarcastically, her lips turned into a petty pout and she felt another snug smile against her skin while he pressed himself even closer against her, caging her between himself and the railing, which she was grabbing furiously with closed eyes, unable to look down the abyss of flickering lights beneath her.

"Don't waste your breath on banter, Darcy." He whispered into her hair and she grinned. She grabbed the hands that pressed her to him and squeezed, urging him to let go of her. He did. Hiding her grin behind a mask of irritation, she turned around, her deep brown eyes surveying the hard planes of his shirt-clad chest before wandering higher, locking gazes with him, while his emerald eyes reflected the lights of the city behind her. She raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you enjoyed our bantering?" she asked and crossed her arms in a fake pout, which drew his gaze momentarily to her daringly low-cut, emerald dress. He couldn't help but smirk at the mixture of green and black.

"I enjoy your choice in color." He admitted huskily, letting his gaze trail over the tiny yet appealing body of the young, wild girl, he eyed her willfully provoking, before once again locking gazes with her. He watched amused how the redness on her cheeks intensified, her pupils dilated and her full, lush lips opened in a silent gasp.

She had to admit, her choice in clothing wasn't all that appropriate. Despite being cold outside, she decided to wear this low-cut dress that barely reached mid-thigh and frankly, revealed almost more than it covered, and yes, the color matched the blazing emerald eyes of the man standing right before her, the man who tried to conquer the world, the man who tried to make them all kneel. But somehow, even as Jane pointed it out to her this evening, she couldn't bring herself to care about the fact that she basically dressed as if she were his. However, these were two different things, having that fact pointed out by her friend was something entirely else than by the man in question. Darcy struggled to articulate any kind of sentence to show him that he did not, in fact, had anything to do with her choice in color, but her embarrassment mixed with the alcohol made her inarticulate. "You…"

"I?" he asked, smirk stretching his lips as he leaned forward, the dark curls falling into his eyes but he didn't seem to mind.

"Stop that!" she hissed, clenching her hands into fists, trying to be intimidating but that was a lost cause considering the God could relieve himself of her with a snap of his fingers – most literally.

"And what would that be?" he asked, his voice a cunning whisper, while he raised a hand, brushed a strand of hair, which has fallen out of her bun due to the raging wind on top of the Stark Tower, behind her ear and put his fingers under her chin, raising it slightly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and pushed her lower lip out, pouting purposefully. "Don't waste your breath on banter, Loki." She hissed his own words back at him and watched mesmerized when a slow, sarcastic smile stretched the corner of his lips, his eyes twinkling with mirth and appreciation at her usage of his biting demand.

"Then what, dear Darcy, am I to do with my breath? Any ideas?" he whispered, leaning closer to her, not breaking the eye contact. "Hopes?" He came closer, hovered over her, with one hand under her chin and the other clutching the railing beside her, efficiently caging her in, while she stood between his legs, tiny in comparison to him, despite her high heels. "Whishes?" he breathed, now almost against her lips. Her eyes were opened wide as she stared into his, her lips opened just enough for him to feel her warm breath fanning against his skin, while his thumb caressed the line of her jaw tenderly.

"I-I…" Darcy breathed, unable to think clearly while the God of Mischief was standing so close that she could feel the iciness of his touch seep through her clothes, making her shiver instantly, while she could do nothing more than stare into his sparkling emerald orbs.

"You?" he prodded, grinning widely at her baffled expression before he leaned to the side, whispering into her ear. "If you don't have any ideas, I am sure we will find some way to occupy out breaths, won't we?" he asked, mischief shining in his eyes as his lips turned into a confident smirk.

She inhaled sharply and gulped, seeing the intense gaze of the Asgardian God fixated on her made her shiver, turned her body into jelly as she was barely able to stand on her wobbly legs anymore. No retort came into her mind as she felt his lips brush against her cheek and her eyes fluttered. She curled her hands around the iron railing behind her, needing any kind of support while he framed her with his tall, lithe body. The proximity between his cold body and her warm one was almost intoxicating, it dazed her and he occupied all of her thoughts and senses, everything was concentrated on him, those devious eyes, his sardonic voice and the icy touch. She longed to reach out to him, to bury her hands in the soft, silky tresses of his midnight hair, to trace the lines of his sharp cheekbones and the strong jaw, to nip on the skin of his neck and follow the hard planes of his godly-sculpted chest with her fingers… and her tongue. Her arousal rose, the craving became almost unbearable, but she didn't want to give in. She had her dignity, and although she considered playing with Captain, she would've never let it go further than banter and harmless touches. Whereas with Loki, the God of Mischief, she was quite convinced that it wouldn't be harmless at all, no matter what they did. That's why when her hands twitched to reach out to him, she grasped the railing even tighter, so that her nails were digging into her flesh while she gritted her teeth, intent on not letting herself be deterred from her plan. Loki noticed her inner battle, of course, and he was amused by it, convinced that she wouldn't have the power to resist him for too long.

His eyes were filled with waggishness as he leaned back and watched her trying to get her bearings, her eyes closed, full lips set into a tight line as her brow furrowed. Suddenly, she became aware of the coldness there, up in the sky and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself while she opened her eyes, not entirely looking up to him, since she didn't want to be hypnotized by his gaze again, now that the haze has more or less been cleared out of her mind by the cold wind.

"I-" she started, her voice slightly hoarse from the arousal that filled her body still. "I'm sure you'll find something to do with your breath, while I'll go back inside, before I freeze to death and you won't ever have to worry about me wasting my breath on banter anymore." She gave a mocking laugh and tried to wriggle free from between his body and the railing and found that she was unable to do so, because Loki was indeed standing like the ice block she called him earlier – cold and unmoving.

"My dear Darcy, I was under the impression that there was a tradition concerning the Midgardian celebration of this New Years Eve." He muttered, eyes trained on her brown orbs that finally looked up to him after she realized that she had no chance to escape him.

"What?" her still a bit hazy mind couldn't comprehend the quick change in topic, as it had nothing to do with what she told him and she had no idea what the hell he meant. "I-I don't understand a word you say, Loki. Care to elaborate?" she asked, rubbing her arms to preserve the warmth while she waited for an explanation. "Before I freeze, if you were so kind." She added as an afterthought, eliciting another soft chuckle from the God of Mischief.

"Well, since you're not that good with words this evening", he raised his hand once again, grabbing her chin and pushing it up a bit roughly, while he towered over her, gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips as he watched entertained how realization dawned upon the woman's confused expression and her eyes widened. "Action should speak for themselves."

And with that, he lowered his lips finally to hers, moving languidly, agonizingly slow, caressing her lips with light pressure, until he felt her melting into his touch. Her hands loosened the grasp on her arms as instead, she let them wander over his shoulders and twist into his silky hair, her lips responding to his soft caress. He held his eyes open, watching how the blush on her cheeks intensified and her widened eyes slowly closed as she leaned further into him. He cupped her jaw in his hand and with his thumb he pressed her chin down, opening her mouth in the process, giving him access to her mouth. His tongue delved between her parted lips, invading her mouth and trying to conquer her. He tasted the remnants of alcohol and Darcy's unique taste, as his tongue stroked hers slowly, deliberately. Darcy moaned into the kiss, the sensation of his cold tongue against hers was breathtaking, galvanizing and she yearned for more. She pressed herself against him, her arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders while his were tangled in her midnight tresses and the other laid on her waist, pressing her against him. He took a step forward, pushing her against the railing and kissed her harder, passion clouding his senses as firework exploded all around them. Literally. Darcy gasped and broke away from him, her hands still clutched in the dark fabric of his shirt while her breath was ragged as she inhaled tremblingly, startled by the sudden noises and colors surrounding them. As she realized that they were not attacked by any aliens but, in fact, these were harmless fireworks, celebrating the beginning of a new year, she laughed softly, leaning her forehead against Loki's slightly heaving chest and just listened to the cheerful shouts of people. She turned her head up and caught Loki's confident and still passion-filled gaze.

"Happy New Year, Darcy." He whispered, a smug smile playing around the corners of his lips and she couldn't help but smile impishly.

"Don't waste your breath, Laufeyson." She muttered, raised herself onto tiptoes and followed up her favorite tradition.

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_Thank you for reading!_

_I'd appreciate any kind of feedback! :)_

_And a Happy New Year to you, too!_


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